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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



1303 



SUN GLEAMS 
& GOSSAMERS 



Hilton R,. Greer... .. .... ........... 



•..•: 




Boston : Richard G. Badger 

o 
The Gorham Press 
1903 



Copyright 1903 by Hilton R. Greer. 
All Rights Reserved 



\ .THE'u'lt^AKY OF 
t '^^OCMGRtSS. 

Vw'o Copies Keceived 

..OCT 9 1903 

class' «- XXc. No 
COPY B. 



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Printed at 

The Gorhatn Press 

Boston 



01 



Contents 

PAGE 

Out of the East 5 

Sir Bluebird 5 

The Lesson of the Lilies - - - - 6 

Soul Questioning 7 

A Country Lane 8 

One Day 9 

Imperishable ------ 10 

Rondel H 

Dandelions - - - - - - H 

Sovereign - - - - - - 12 

What Matters It 13 

A Boating Song 14 

Midsummer - - - - - - 15 

The Newer South 16 

'Twixt Leaf and Sheaf Time - - - 17 

When Autumn Comes - - - - 18 

November ------ 19 

A Song of Thanksgiving - - - - 20 



Solace 21 

A Winter's Day 21 

The Lofty 22 

The Winter Forest 23 

The Drowsyland Express - - - 24 

As of Old .._--- 25 

In the Days of Lafayette - - - - 26 

A Winter Morning . _ - . 28 



OUT OF THE EAST 

One touch of color, and the slumberous sky 
Wakens as might some sleeper at a kiss ; 

A flush — a flame — and Dawn, a butterfly, 

Bursts, golden-winged, from Night's black 
chrysalis ! 



SIR BLUEBIRD 

Breasting a tide of billowy blossoming, 

A bit of noon from April skies remote. 

Sir Bluebird swings and from his throbbing throat 

Outflings such lures of lyric rioting 

As stir the orchard boughs to murmuring 

With rhythmic rapture at each tinkling note 

And sward and coppice-aisle to overfloat 

With all the silver symphonies of Spring. 

Spirit of Song ! Incarnate Melody, 

Sped winging earthward, singing from the spheres ! 

Thine were such sheer excess of ecstasy, 

Too keen for rapture, and so tense with tears 

That eyes grow blurred with misty memory 

Of bloomy Aprils in the yester years ! 



THE LESSON OF THE LILIES 

Look where the lilies are gleaming in glory ! 

See how they lighten and brighten the sward ! 
List how they breathe from their sweet lips the 
story, 

Old and yet new, of a crucified Lord ! 

As they upspring from the earth's gloomy bosom 
Daily to gladden the garden with bloom. 

So into life, like a light-seeking blossom. 
He, that was crucified, rose from the tomb. 

Rose from the tomb with a heart free from malice, 
Free from iniquity's cankerous blight. 

Spotless and stainless as each snowy chalice 
Lilies uplift in the glad morning light. 

Look ye the lilies, O, sin-burdened mortals. 
See how they lighten and brighten the sod ! 

So may ye spring from mortality's portals 
Out in the infinite meadows of God ! 



SOUL QUESTIONING 

What is Success? Is it to stand alone, 

Star-comraded on some sheer mountain height — 
To spread the soul's proud wings within the light 

That streams undimmed from some celestial 
throne ? 
Is it to bask in Fortune's fickle sun 

'Mid hollow plaudits of the fawning throng, 
And still, with soul unsatisfied, to long 

For far, alluring triumphs yet unwon? 

Or is it in some song-sweet vale to rest, 

At Love's own shrine a simple worshipper — 
Never to feel ambition's goading spur, 

Never to have pale Avarice for guest — 
And yet to hold that inner consciousness 

That life, though lowly, were not lived in vain 
That fame and fortune were not all to gain — 

Tell me, O, learned of men, is this Success? 



A COUNTRY LANE 

Along a country lane 

Where blithe from fields of grain 

Some wild bird freights the breeze 

With rhythmic rhapsodies — 

Where Nature offers up 

A sunlit, sparkling cup 

Of rare and rosy wine 

New-pressed from Virtue's vine — 

Come let us while away 

An afternoon in May ! 

Cicadas, as we pass. 

Chirp greetings from the grass ; 

Brown bees drone welcoming 

Where honey-suckles cling, 

And hedge-blooms, half asleep, 

All wonderingly peep 

From dew-dimmed lids to see 

What trespassers may be 

Roving their fair demesne 

Along a country lane ! 

Here rest and peace abide 
In meadows green and wide 
Where streams song-shod and free 
Trip onward tinklingly ; 
Here sorrowing and care 
Take to the boundless air. 
Fleet-winged as butterflies 
Under the mild May skies. 
Ah, there were balm for pain 
Along a country lane ! 



ONE DAY 



The clouds lay heavy o'er the land that day, 

And ever and anon with stormy gust 

The rain-drops dashed the dust 
And spangled bush and bloom with silver spray. 
But when the skies cleared and the sunset poured 
A warm cascade of color down the west, 

One londy lily in the garden place 

With fair uplifted face 
Gazed starward, and her white lips whispered 
*'Rest!" 

II 

Old cares lay heavy on my heart that day, 

And ever and anon a wild unrest 

Surged, storming, in my breast. 
Keen torn and throbbing from tumultuous fray. 
But with the fading light you came to me. 
White as some lily's snowy spotlessness. 

And, banished by your pure soul's redolence. 

Fled doubts and discontents 
As night-born mists before the dawn's caress ! 



IMPERISHABLE 

No good thing perishes. The smallest seed, 
Borne on the wind's wings to an alien soil, 

May burst to blossom on some distant mead 
And cheer a plodding plowman at his toil. 

No good thing perishes. Garnet and gold. 

The spent leaves scatter at the frost's keen stroke, 

But each gives promise, mingling with the mold, 
Of springtime verdure on the parent oak. 

No good thing perishes. One pilgrim thought. 
Pregnant with power, penetrant with truth, 

In 5^ears to come with burning import fraught. 
May shape the purpose of our nation's youth. 

No good thing perishes. The gyves of Might 
May bind our little Present limb and limb. 

But Truth shall triumph and the ranks of Right 
In God's own time shall take the world for Him ! 



10 



RONDEL 

The roses round your window form a frame 

Through which your pictured face looks out on 
me 

With such all-sweet, all-fleeting witchery 

As Art might clasp in dreams but dare not claim. 

For loveliness like thine but puts to shame 

Warm tints that hover where, untamed and free, 

The roses round your window form a frame 

Through which your pictured face looks out on 
me. 

Ah, if one wish, one only, I might name, 

A beggar butterfly I fain would be. 
That I might mount me up on wings of flame 

To where, entwined in radiant riotry, 
The roses round your window form a frame 

Through which your pictured face looks out on 
me ! 



DANDELIONS 

Waifs by the wayside ! Bits of blossomed gold, 
Fringing with flame the hot road's weedy hems ! 
You are but symbols, set on slender stems, 

Of Hope's own angels cast in earthy mold ! 

For oftentimes when clouds hang thick and gray 
You seem but stamened sun-gleams gone astray 

To cheer lone pilgrims, faint and sorrow-souled. 
And speed them, strengthened, on the toilsome 
way ! 



11 



SOVEREIGN 

Just where the wheel-worn highway leaves behind 
The town's keen clamors and its shrill alarms, 
A cone-strewn wood-path winds past quiet farms 

And tinkling streams until its windings find 

One sovereign pine which, kinglier than its kind, 
Dauntless alike in beating suns and storms, 
Stretches above the wood its stalwart arms 

As if to shield it from the hail and wind. 

Like to this pine true friendship is, I ween, 

Staunch and unyielding when Life's tempests 

blow, 
Deep-rooted, steadfast, sheltering-armed and 
high; 
Fragrant with kindly deeds and evergreen 

Through days of slanting sun or swirling snow. 
And towering loftier as the years go by ! 



12 



WHAT MATTERS IT 

What matters it that all the skies were dark 

And black the night and tense ? 
With morning came the singing of the lark 

And joy for recompense ! 
What matters it that ever day by day 

Up rugged slopes we fare — 
Do not Love's roses blossom by the way 

And sweeten all the air ? 

Life's pathway is a toilsome one, I know, 

Thick strewn with many a thorn ; 
But O, the joyance of the noontide glow 

And rosy smile of morn ! 
Full oft the footsteps falter on the road 

And slacken near the goal ; 
But one clear bird song seems to lift the load 

And cheer the fainting soul. 

And so, what boots it though the skies be dark 

And black the night and tense, 
Since morning brings the singing of the lark 

And joy for recompense ? 
One day of golden summer amply pays 

For winter's storm and sting ; 
One brief sweet hour of pleasure well outweighs 

Long weeks of sorrowing ! 



13 



A BOATING SONG 

Noonday of a June day and a blue sky bending 
over, 
Breath of breezes balsamy, fresh from fen and 
field — 
Flash of oars and splash of oars and rune and croon 
of waters, 
Lily-buds emblazoned on the river's silver shield. 
Yet with winds to bring to me 
Ravished sweets and fling to me 
Cooling sprays and sing to me of vows of lovers 
true — 
What were all of this to me, 
What of balm or bliss to me. 
When soul and sight are aching for the step an 
smile of you? 

Moonlight of a June night and you, my sweet, 
beside me, 
Drifting, idly drifting, where the ripples seek 
the shore — 
Throb and sob of 'cello strings, low- wailing down 
the waters. 
And with your hands to clasp in mine, what 
need to grasp an oar? 
Floating down the tide with you — 
Ah, could I abide with you. 
Ever side by side with you Life's shifting stream 
along, 
Shore and sky, it seems to me 
Would be fraught with dreams to me 
What time we drifted Edenward, attuned to Love's 
sweet song ! 

14 



MIDSUMMER 

When wan midsummer holds the land 
Close-clasped within her magic hand, 
A mellow haze enwraps the ways 
Where, placid-browed, the far hills stand. 

Blithe brooks that laughed and leaped with Spring 
By pebbly banks no longer sing, 
No more rejoice, but sink their voice 
To dull and drowsy murmuring. 

From hedge to hedge the eye can trace 
Sheer, silken filaments of lace 
By spiders spun ere yet the sun 
Had glimmered o'er the morning ways. 

Oppressive silences enfold 
The songless wood and sleeping wold 
When noontide spills along the hills 
Her lavish largesses of gold. 

And yet, though stilled the song of streams, 

Most gracious is my lot, meseems ; 

All joyous still by copse or hill 

To wander, comraded with dreams ! 



15 



THE NEWER SOUTH 

Not the same South as of old, with a wealth of 

brave deeds and romances ; 
Not the same South as of old, with a tinkle of 

strings in the cabins ; 
Not the same South as of old, of opulent ease and 

indulgence ! 

Nay, from a furnace of flame, steel-thewed a new 

land has arisen. 
Sinewy, stalwart and strong, and brave with the 

spirit of striving. 
Dominant, active, alert, and keen-eyed and clearer 

of vision. 

This is the South which shall lay close clasp to the 

throttle of Commerce ; 
This is the South which shall burden the ultimate 

seas and the oceans 
With the fruit of her forges and forests and the 

glimmering gold of her grain-fields. 

This is the South which has set a goal on the 

heights of endeavor ; 
This is the South which shall press, undaunted and 

steadfast of purpose. 
Up, up, to the star-seeking peaks of proud and 

triumphant achievement ! 



16 



'TWIXT LEAF AND SHEAF TIME 

Stilled are the brook songs that were wont to stir 
The rugged hill-hearts with their dulcitude 
When mad-cap May, with blossoms million-hued, 

Set all things singing at the step of her. 

O'er wood-haunts dusk, where some blithe choris- 
ter 
Ravished the noons with rippling interlude, 
A silence broods, as sacred and subdued 

As that which wraps some moss-grown sepulcher. 

This is the hush the toil-worn year deems best — 
This songless space between the green and gold 
Of leaf and sheaf time when tired Nature seems, 
Outstretched and still, to seek repose and rest ; 
And soothed with thoughts of harvests manifold 
To drowse, content, and yield herself to dreams ! 



17 



WHEN AUTUMN COMES 

When Autumn comes through summer-haunted 
ways, 
The meadows burn to gold beneath her tread, 
The maples flush, the scarlet sumacs blaze, 

And clustered grapes hang, purpling, overhead ; 
From fields made sweet with breath of garnered 
grain 
In sudden flight a whirring partridge drums ; 
The summer-seeking birds honk south again 
When Autumn comes. 

When Autumn comes, dear heart, to this our life 
And on our brows the first faint frosts appear, 

God orrant it brines surcease of summer strife 
And gracious plenitude of harvest cheer ! 

That all our thoughts as lustrously may glow 
As ruddied oaks or crimson-bannered gums. 

That all undimmed Life's westering sun sink low 
When Autumn comes I 



18 



NOVEMBER 

Low-lying belts of fog that blur the sun 

And shroud the hill-slopes with empurpled pall ; 

Outwearied leaves, as soundless as the fall 

Of death-shod dusk, down-drifting one by one. 

On wood and field and weed-retarded run 

Oppressive silence, deep, Sabbatical, 

Save when at eventide the querulous call 

Of questing quail loud-shrills from meadows dun. 

Thrice drear November! Since thou summonest 
Old memories, sadly sweet, and long-pent tears 
That flood dim eyes with misty overflows ! 
And yet — and yet — a-glimmer on thy breast, 
Like some fair hope against the grief of years. 
Midsummer's legacy — one crimson rose ! 



19 



A SONG OF THANKSGIVING 

Now that the year has lengthened to its close 

And sere November robes the russet hills, 
That fields no longer flaunt the flaming rose 

And glens no longer glow with daffodils ; 
That summer's garish glare has given place 

To pensive Autumn's sweetly solemn mood, 
Most lenient Lord, for all thy gifts and grace 

We lift our souls in deepest gratitude ! 

Full rough and sore has been the pilgrimage 

Where cruel thorns have pierced our plodding 
feet ; 
Black storms have lashed the heavens to frenzied 
rage 
And earth and air have pulsed with noonday 
heat; 
But Hope's bright bow has spanned the sullen sky 
And Love's own rose has blossomed by the ways. 
And so for these, most gracious God on high. 
We lift our hearts in grateful songs of praise ! 

Full well we know that all the guerdons gained 

Were but downpourings from Thy hand sublime. 
Full well we know that thine own grace sustained 

And led us safely to the harvest time ; 
And now that autumn's sweet solemnity 

Has brought surcease of summer strife and stress, 
O Lord Omnipotent, we lift to Thee, 

From swelling hearts a song of thankfulness ! 



20 



SOLACE 

Soft as the tender strain some mother sings, 
Soothing a fretful babe when eventide 
Over the huddled hills and meadows wide 
Empurpled shadows like a mantle flings, 
Comes the low-lisping rain that twilight brings, 
Crooning sweet lullabies, which like a tide 
Soundless and yet resistless, sweep aside 
All grief and woe and vexing care that clings. 

And sudden mist up-well s to hard, hot eyes. 
Long heavy with the ache of tears unshed, 
And old new peace brings solace to the breast 
As if one other mother from the skies, 
Down-bending as in twilights dear and dead, 
All tenderly had lulled her child to rest. 



A WINTER'S DAY 

Dawn — and a scowling east. 

Black-browed with portent of impending wrath ; 

Crouched clouds, low-huddled like some famished 

beast 
That stalks its victim in the jungle path. 

Noon — and a leaden sky 
Down leering on a bleak and barren plain ; 
Gaunt timber-lands where ghoulish winds wail by 
And gloom and tempest, tyrant rulers, reign. 

Twilight — and stinging mist 

Of gusty raindrops and a slash of sleet ; 

But home and light and, waiting to be kissed, 

Warm-welcoming, the lips of you, my sweet ! 

21 



THE LOFTY 

All that is lofty springs from sore travail. 
Yon rugged peak that in its granite breast 
Locks the unfathomed secrets of all time, 
That, scorning sea-mists, rears its Titan head 
To ampler airs and comradeship of stars. 
Sprung in the dusk of some primeval dawn 
From wild upheaval while the anguished earth 
Groaned awful thunders at each rending pain 
Of keen deliverance. 

Yon sovereign pine 
That stands, a sentry, where the topmost crest 
Blends with the morning blueness of the skies. 
Owes its proud being to the mother-seed 
Whose loins were rent with clammy agonies 
And nameless deaths to win her offspring life. 

And, higher yet than any peak or pine. 
All kingly thoughts that lift aloft and sheer 
Above their pigmy fellows and withstand 
The scathing tempests of relentless Time, 
Upsprung from inmost travail, fierce and wild. 
From throes tumultuous and throbbings keen 
Of pregnant souls whose best and truest blood 
Gave form and shape and color to the theme ! 
LoiQ. ^ 



THE WINTER FOREST 

Armored, the gaunt trees stand, like knights of old 
In helmet bright arrayed and flashing mail. 
Braving with sturdy strength each hostile gale 
That sweeps in fury down the barren wold. 
The ways where lavish Summer spilled her gold 
Show wan and pale as Death's last kiss is pale, 
And where the first shy violets fringed the vale 
The snow-drifts glimmer waxen-white and cold. 

Yet, haply, though in Winter's icy clutch 

The land lies clasped, come summer dreams 

a-throng 
And one low voice steals ever, whispering : 
'' The May shall smile again and at her touch 
The silent streams shall wake to tinklins: song: 
And wood and wold to joyous blossoming ! " 



28 



THE DROWSYLAND EXPRESS 

From Twilighttown to Sleepyville 

Is a long long way, I guess, 
But the fastest train in the world, I ween. 

Is the Drowsyland Express ! 
There's a kiss for fire and a song for steam 

And Love to manage the train ; 
Just a moment's stop at the City of Dream, 

And it's on through the night again ! 

Then, it's O, my little one, 

Ho, my little one, 
Sweet of the tawny tress ! 

It's off and away 

At the close of day 
On the Drowsyland Express ! 

'Tis mother love that like a star 

Lights all the way outspread, 
And mother's lap is the Pullman car 

That rests the weary head. 
Across the golden bridge of prayer 

The crooning engine flies 
While from the swift-revolving wheels 

Rise tender lullabies. 

So it's O, my sweet. 

Of the tired feet 
And the tangled, tawny tress ! 

It's off and away 

At the close of day 
On the Drowsyland Express ! 



24 



AS OF OLD 

One silver star, 
Piercing the darkness dim — 
And way-worn pilgrims, toiling from afar, 
Deemed it a beacon-light to beckon them, 
Not to the hollow court of earthly czar, 
But to a King, new-born at Bethlehem ! 

A seraph's strain 
From realms beyond the ken 
Of shepherds watching o'er Judea's plain ; 
And rock-ribbed steep and vine-embowered glen 
With tuneful tongues took up the glad refrain 
Of "Peace, sweet Peace, on earth, good will to 
men ! " 

And e'en today 
Athwart the plains of life 
The Christ-star sends a glad and guiding ray; 
And oft, despite the surging din and strife. 
Steals a sweet strain as soft as winds that stray 
Through blossom-burdened boughs with odors rife ! 



25 



IN THE DAYS OF LAFAYETTE 

In the days of Lafayette 
Grandam trod the minuet 
With a stately step and slow 
While the candelabra's glow- 
Softened to a mellow shade 
Shimmerings of stiff brocade ; 
Brightened with an added grace % 
Silver shoon and foamy lace ; 
Gave a gleam to witching eyes 
Lustrous as the starry skies. 
Maids — as now — would fain coquette 
In the days of Lafayette. 

Brave gallants with powdered hair 
Courtesied with knightly air 
While along the polished hall 
Grandam swept, admired by all. 
Not a strong heart but did stir 
Quickened at the sight of her ; 
Not a good sword but did leap 
From its sheath with sudden sweep 
Did she give but slight command 
With a motion of her hand. 
Men were fools — as men are yet — 
In the days of Lafayette. 

But when maids and masters all 
Long had left the polished hall, 
When the strains the spinet crooned 
In the arms of night had swooned, 
Look where grandam loitered late 
In the shadows by the gate, 



26 



While her bosom rose and fell 
With emotion's stormy swell ; 
Loitered, till the lights grew dim, 
For the step and voice of him, 
All her lashes sorrow-wet 
In the days of Lafayette ! 

And the star-eyes looking down 
On the 9ld colonial town 
Saw her wrapt in his embrace, 
While he showered on her face 
Kisses warm and whispered low : 
" Bless thee, sweetheart, for I go ! 
Ere the rise of morning's sun 
I must be with Washington ! " 
Then the swift up-welling tear 
With her " Heaven guard thee, dear ! '■' 
Love was king — as Love is yet — 
In the days of Lafayette ! 

Dead the years of old romance ! 
Beaming belles and gay gallants 
Long have crumbled into dust; 
Burnished blades have gone to rust ; 
But when Yuletide twilight brings 
Perfumed dreams and murmurings, 
Mistress Fancy carries me 
Back to times of chivalry 
When with stately step and slow 
In the candelabra's glow 
Grandam trod the minuet 
In the days of Lafayette ! 



27 



A WINTER MORNING 

The sunlight sifts through rosy rifts 

That lattice the gates of day, 
And glints and glows where silent snows 

Imbosom the trackless way. 
Like portraits old the wind-swept wold 

In framings of frost is set, 
Each lordly pine on the far incline 

Wears an icy coronet. 

Yet who would bide by the ingle-side 
Though winds cut cold and keen ! 

Let us gladly haste o'er an ermine waste 
And feast on a flawless scene 

Where snows and skies but symbolize 
The errorless heart of Him 

Who places now on nature's brow 
A glittering diadem ! 



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